Letting go feels impossible at times. We hold onto our pain like it’s part of who we are, afraid that releasing it will leave us empty—or worse, lost. But the truth is, letting go doesn’t mean forgetting or pretending the hurt never happened. It means loosening the grip that pain has on us, so we can move forward with the space to heal.
I used to believe my past defined me. The trauma, the failures, the regrets—they felt like permanent ink on the pages of my life. I carried them everywhere, weighed down by the stories I couldn’t seem to stop telling myself. But what I didn’t realize was that the weight wasn’t just slowing me down—it was keeping me from seeing the possibilities ahead.
Letting go is not a single moment; it’s a process, a practice. For me, it started with acknowledgment. I had to face my pain head-on, name it, and allow myself to feel it fully. Only then could I begin to understand that holding onto it wasn’t protecting me—it was holding me hostage.
The next step was forgiveness—not just for those who had hurt me, but for myself. I had to forgive the person I was when I didn’t know better, the person who made mistakes, the person who didn’t have the tools to cope. Forgiveness doesn’t excuse the harm done; it frees us from its grasp.
Sometimes, letting go feels like losing a part of yourself. But in truth, it’s making room for something better—peace, clarity, freedom. It’s an act of courage, of choosing to trust that what lies ahead is worth the risk of leaving the past behind.
If you’re struggling to let go, start small. Write a letter to the part of yourself that’s holding on. Speak to your pain like an old friend and thank it for what it’s taught you. Then, when you’re ready, release it—burn the letter, bury it, or simply close the page and move forward.
Letting go isn’t about erasing the past; it’s about unburdening the future. It’s about reclaiming your life, one step at a time. And while the journey isn’t easy, it’s one worth taking. Because on the other side of letting go, you’ll find something you may have forgotten—yourself.